


Dream Home

by nomadichead



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5004784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomadichead/pseuds/nomadichead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it was Neverland, maybe it was nothing. It was hard to tell the difference anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Home

“Patrick, where’s home gone?”  
  
It was late. Patrick could tell by the glimmer of moonlight through the shutters and rasp of Pete’s voice. He hadn’t slept.  
  
“Where do you want it to be?” He tried to sound soothing and rolled over in the bed to find Pete curled under too many hoodies and Patrick’s pyjama pants. Pete gave a half attempted shrug and whimpered appreciatively when Patrick curled his hand around Pete’s wrist.  
  
“You’re okay Pete. We’re here. We’re home.”  
  
“If home is where the heart is then we’re all just fucked.”  
  
Pete looked awful. His hair felt lank and sticky with grease as Patrick ran his hands through it, his version of tactile comfort. Pupils dilated and lips one crack away from bleeding. He looked so beautiful and so broken that it hurt Patrick. He pulled Pete closer and breathed deeply when he felt a nose nuzzle into the junction between his neck and shoulder.  
  
“Wherever you go, I’ll follow you.” Patrick meant it but Pete shook his head in disbelief. His fingers traced a pattern onto Patrick’s arm. Maybe it was Neverland, maybe it was nothing. It was hard to tell the difference anymore.  
  
“Go to sleep, Pete.”  
  
“Promise you'll find me?”  
  
It didn’t really make sense to Patrick but he knew that it was better than Pete keeping the words inside his head. He felt the movement of Pete’s chest against his become steady and he watched the way Pete’s eyelashes fanned against his cheek.  
  
In the morning the sun burnt and Pete was gone.

 


End file.
